


ooh wee, my darlin'

by urdearestmom



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, is it a canon i made up????, is it book canon????, is it movie canon????, nobody knows!!!!, this doesnt have a set universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urdearestmom/pseuds/urdearestmom
Summary: He’s really just trying to finish this essay.





	ooh wee, my darlin'

**Author's Note:**

> some more reddie content from me?? feeding the gays in this chili's tonight
> 
> this is unedited mostly, i wrote this all today. let me know if you liked it!!!!!!!!

He’s really just trying to finish this essay. It’s due the day after tomorrow, but Eddie wants to have time to look his good copy over with fresh eyes and make corrections if necessary, because if they are he’s going to have to write a whole new copy on fresh paper. 

His developmental psych prof is a nightmare. Why can’t he just take slight corrections on the page? All of Eddie’s other professors do. 

Unfortunately for his essay, Eddie’s boyfriend is in his room distracting him. His roommate, Jack, left for a study group meeting about a half hour ago, and since Richie lives just upstairs in the same dorm, it’s easy for him to come visit. Currently, he’s hanging off of Eddie’s bottom bunk, floppy hair brushing the floor as he watches Eddie write at his desk. 

“That’s bad for your brain, you know,” Eddie says conversationally, pretending he’s not staring at the underside of Richie’s angular jaw and looking away when he grins. 

“He speaks!” Richie crows, but he doesn’t turn over. “Are you done yet? I’m bored.” 

“I told you I had an essay to finish but you came down anyway. Not my fault.” 

He makes a whining noise and stretches his arms in Eddie’s direction, effectively ruining his concentration. 

“You are literally a small child,” Eddie says, dropping his pen and glaring down at his stupid, distracting boyfriend. “What can I do to make you shut up?” 

Richie looks like he’s mulling over his options before a childish smile erupts on his face. “Kiss me?” 

Eddie groans. “Oh my god, are you serious? No.” 

Richie pouts. “Why not? Is it because I’m upside down? Because I’ll turn over,” he answers, and then he rolls right side up. 

Eddie snorts derisively and turns back to his paper. “No, it’s because if I kiss you I’m going to want to _keep_ kissing you, and then I’m not going to finish my essay,” he retorts, picking his pen back up. “Now shut up and let me work. The sooner I’m finished, the sooner we can do something else.”

Silence settles over Eddie’s dorm for a few minutes as he finishes scratching in the end of his last body paragraph. He’s about to start the hardest part of all: the conclusion. It came out better than he hoped it would in his rough copy, the words just flowing out of his pen almost like magic. His good copy will hopefully wrap things up exactly the way he wants it to.

Richie’s breathing has faded in with the background noises of the building; the usual creaks of worn floors and squeaks of doors in need of oiling, along with muffled voices in other rooms. Eddie almost thinks Richie’s fallen asleep because of how quiet he’s being until Eddie sneaks a look behind him and finds that Richie is now hanging upside down off the top bunk, his glasses sitting on his forehead and threatening to fall off at any second. He has his eyes crossed and his tongue sticking out as he reaches for the floor. 

Despite his considerable height, Richie is unable to reach the floor, and as a result slips off and crashes to the ground. 

“You fucking idiot,” Eddie says stonily. “Why would you fucking do that? You could have broken your neck, asshole.”

Richie glares at him from the ground. “So I’ve just fallen from a great height and you’re gonna sit there?” 

Eddie turns around and gets back to his concluding paragraph without a word.

“Aw, come on, Eds!” Moans Richie. “I wanted some Doctor K lovin’!” 

“Shut the fuck up and let me finish, Trashmouth.” 

Richie huffs, but Eddie hears him sit down on the bed again. Eddie wonders how he didn’t hear Richie climbing up before and decides that he must’ve just been really concentrated. Now, if only he can get that concentration back…

He’s written about one and a half sentences when Richie starts up again, this time humming some melody Eddie doesn’t recognize. “ _Richie!”_ He hisses, whipping around. “Could you not be annoying for ten minutes of your life?!” 

Richie smiles lazily. “I know you love me really, Eds.” 

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Rich, please. I want to finish this and then we can do whatever. I just don’t want to be worrying about it in the back of my mind, okay?” 

“You sitting there in those shorts isn’t helping,” Richie remarks, rapping his knuckles on the slats of the top bunk above him to the rhythm of _Pop Goes the Weasel._

Eddie looks down. He’s wearing the little red gym shorts he’s had since he was thirteen (they’re just really comfy, okay?) and they’re riding up high. They’re already short due to the seven inches he’s grown in the last seven years, but he insists on keeping them. 

He maintains that it’s because they’re comfy, but he knows it’s mostly because Richie likes them. He’d never be caught wearing them anywhere there was a chance someone _other_ than his boyfriend would see. 

So, even though Eddie’s well aware that he changed into the shorts before Richie came downstairs purposely to tease, he rolls his eyes. “Stop looking at me, then. Jack off or something, I don’t care. Just keep yourself busy and be quiet.” 

Richie starts laughing, so much so that he has to sit up to stop himself from choking. “You know I’m never quiet when it comes to that, Spaghetti,” he says, eyes gleaming with mirth from behind his glasses. 

Eddie flushes but doesn’t respond. He forces himself to think about his boring psych prof and the essay he’s absolutely intent on finishing instead of on Richie and what they could be up to. 

All is well for about twenty minutes. Richie pulls out a Walkman from who knows where and finally lies calmly on Eddie’s bed, waiting. Eddie thinks he’s going to be able to finish, and is, in fact, almost done with his stupid conclusion when Richie’s voice carries over to him. 

“Ooh wee, my darlin’,” he croons, “Can I make love to you tonight?” He hums a little bit before singing again. “Sweetheart… I will do you right, I can make you feel so good… I’m in the mood to make love tonight…” 

His voice is filled with tenderness and it makes Eddie want to let go of his Godforsaken essay immediately, so he does. He turns around to see Richie lying on the bed on his stomach, facing Eddie with the loveliest smile. He’s not wearing headphones anymore. 

“Do you like it?” He asks tentatively. “It’s a little something I’ve been working on, but I don’t have my guitar right now so I just sang it.” 

Eddie smiles back. “It was really nice, Rich.” 

Richie looks down, cheeks flushing. “Thanks.” 

They’re both silent for a moment before Richie speaks again, his usual shit-eating grin back in place. “So can we do that?” 

“Do what?” 

Richie wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “ _Make love_.” 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “God, do you really have to say it with that face?” 

“You know you want to.” 

Eddie gives a long-suffering sigh. “Fine…” He feigns disinterest, but really it’s been over a week since they had time to be together and he’s getting kind of desperate, so he doesn’t actually mind how quickly Richie grabs him and pulls him onto the bed, fusing their mouths together in what’s one of the most passionate lip-locks Eddie’s ever been in. 

Richie is radiating so much heat that it starts making Eddie sweaty right away and he pulls away to throw off his shirt. Then he remembers that Jack could actually come back at any minute, so he gets up off of Richie, much to the other’s displeasure. 

“Lemme just- put a sock on the doorknob-” Eddie explains, shucking off his socks, “Jack knows I’m gay but I don’t think he actually wants to see us.”

“I mean, we could always have a thr-”

“Do _not_ finish that sentence.”

* * *

 

For lack of a better word, Eddie loves Richie. Eddie has probably always loved Richie and he probably always will, although there’s no sight in the universe that he could possibly love more than this one: Richie, pink-cheeked and sweaty after they’ve had sex, hair all over the pillow, face as close to Eddie’s as he can get it without going cross-eyed. He’s glorious. 

“Eddie,” he murmurs, finger running down Eddie’s nose and then back up his cheek. “I love you.”

Eddie smiles softly, his eyes roving over the sweeping expanse of Richie’s skin that he’s left marked before travelling up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you, too.” 

Richie yawns lightly and wraps himself around Eddie, moving his head down to lay on Eddie’s chest. “You’re a very aggressive top, you know. Takes a lot outta me.” 

“You just like being manhandled,” Eddie answers smoothly. 

Richie chuckles. “Guess I like being your bitch. Even when you bottom you still boss me around.” 

“Why are we talking about this?” 

“I have… no idea…” 

Within seconds, Richie snuggles into the crook between Eddie’s neck and shoulder and falls asleep. Soon Eddie’s just drifting off himself, cheek pressed to Richie’s hair, when he jolts with a sudden realization. 

His fucking essay isn’t done.

But then Richie squeezes him tight and mumbles some nonsense and Eddie decides he’ll finish later.

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to comment!!


End file.
